Conspiracy Theory of Gotham City
by SuOmAlAiNeN92
Summary: On the night Thomas and Martha Wayne were killed, there was another victim who was shot and hit by a car. After waking up in a hospital few weeks later with amnesia, he was approached by a mysterious woman to act as her Private Investigator in exchange for help finding out who he was. With no memory and nowhere to go, what else was the poor chump to do, but take the case?
1. Prologue

**Author's notes: **This an idea I got last Fall. It seemed like the best idea I could have ever gotten for a fanfic, because this is a potential premise for an episode of _Gotham_, but will never probably be used. Because it's still an idea, I'm just throwing it out there and hoping to see what kind of response it gets, if it gets even that.

* * *

**Prologue**

Rain. It is going to rain soon, and yet my clothes are already wet. My breathing also feels hard to do in this fog, and as I feel a spot in my chest where it stings, I feel the other liquid besides water. Blood. That's right, I was shot and fell to the river. How did I end up here?

* * *

A young girl no older than 15 was running through the roofs. She looked down to the streets of Gotham City, which were filled with people. Seeing the perfect place for pickpocketing, she smiled before jumping down the building between a market place set on the sidewalk.

Walking between the people passing her, she saw her first mark and pulled out a stiletto. Passing a woman carrying groceries, the girl bumped into her, covering her knife as she sliced the paper-bag open, and then took one of the milk cartons as she ''helped'' the woman pick up her groceries. Now she had milk, which she quickly hid inside her jacket. And then she noticed the second mark.

* * *

Quickly, I need to get out of this alley. The bullet would still stings but I have to ignore it in order to get up. I force myself of my back and onto my stomach, slowly pulling my body by closing my knees together. My right hand pushes me upwards as my left hand tries to find something to grab onto. I grunt as I managed to find something and pull myself on my feet. I lean to the wall and look at my chest again. It's still red from the blood. On instinct I immediately start to put pressure on it and look for help.

And there it is, light at the end of this alley. And where there is light, there should be people.

* * *

''Hey!''

Stealing the wallet wasn't that easy. The girl was noticed almost immediately and she had to run. Good thing she was a street smart and knew where the fire escape was so she managed to get away with the stolen wallet. Yep, she didn't even need to look behind herself to know the mark wasn't following her anymore.

Making her way to an alleyway, she returned to te street level and made sure she wasn't followed. Then she removed the money from the wallet and discarded it to the sewers. Behind the dumpsters in the alley were some cats she delightedly decided to pour some milk. But then she had to grab her things and hide back up to the fire escape as she heard laughter and people coming to the alley.

''Oh, come one, Tom. It wasn't that bad.''

A family of three, a rich family by the looks of it.

''No? Childish,'' Tom, the father said.

''The acting was fine, the music was lovely,'' the mother said before turning to their son. ''What about you, Bruce?''

''Sorry, mom, I agree with him on that,'' Bruce happily told his mother. ''It was a kinda lame.''

''Kinda lame? There's no such thing as ''kinda'','' Tom told Bruce with the same attitude. ''It was totally lame.''

''You two are so judgmental-'' the mother was about to say when

''Stick up, folks!'' a dark masked man told them as he appeared out of nowhere and pointed a gun at the family.

''Stay calm, Bruce,'' Tom said pushing his son and wife behind him and confronted the mugger.

''Give me your money!'' the mugger said waving his gun at Tom.

''No problem,'' Tom said passing his wallet to the mugger who quickly pulled it to his pockets. ''I'm cooperating.''

Above the girl watched intensed as the mugger turned his weapon at the mother holding her son.

''The necklace!'' the mugger demanded, forcing the mother to let go of her son as she tried to nervously remove her necklace.

She did eventually get it removed and was giving it to the mugger, who ripped it to himself, breaking the necklace and making the pearls fall to the pavement.

What happened next, almost lasted too long as the mugger first just stood there and then

**BANG!**

The mugger shot Tom right to the chest and made him fall as the pearls still bounced on the concrete. Above them, the girl flinched and

**BANG!**

The mugger shot the mother too before turning his weapon at Bruce.

* * *

''Hey!''

It's difficult to speak and my voice doesn't carry very far. I just need to get to where the light is coming. That's where the people are. Walking would be easier if I didn't have to keep pressure on my chest and lean to the wall in order to stay up.

**BANG!**

Was that a gun shot? Could that be the same shooter who shot me?

**BANG!**

Another shot, that should draw attention. Away from here. When everyone is running to that direction no one is going to notice me and get me any help. I need to get out faster.

Light, finally. And there are the people looking at the alley way on the opposite side of the street. They have phones and are calling for help. If I can just get across the street-

* * *

''_911_, _what is your emergency_?''

''There's two people laying dead on the alley here! It looks like a robbery and murder. I just heard gun shots and came to find them laying dead here.''

''_Where_ _is this happening_?''

''Park Row, near the Monarch Theater and-''

''_Ma'am, are you still with us? Ma'am_?''

''Yes, I'm still here. Could you also send an ambulance here?''

''_Ma'am, what happened_?''

''A man was just hit by a car while crossing the street.''

''_We will notify the police and Gotham General. Stay on the line until they arrive at the scene_.''

Red haired woman in green suit kept her phone on her ear and walked two steps towards the edge of the sidewalk. There she could see to the alley where two people were laying dead and to the street, where a man dressed in damaged clothes was laying and holding a book close to his chest, still miraculously alive.

* * *

**Author's notes:** As I said above, the continuation of this story is depending the response this chapter gets.


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's notes:** I didn't mention in the last chapter, but the idea of this story was born when I was reading a Batman comic that was set in the same time as Gotham does and that is where the idea was born from. If any of the readers is to recognize what this comic is, please keep it to yourselves. I don't want our protagonist's identity to be spoiled until the end.

So far this story as gotten three followers so I decided to take this a little bit further to see if they stay or more interest will bloom.

**Hospital**

Either this place is trying to save electricity by not keeping the lights on or maybe someone is trying to set some kind of mood in here. As I reach consciousness, I can understand why I'm in laying position on my back, but the darkness and still present pain is what is telling me to be wary of my actions. I move my head of the pillow I'm leaning onto and find that third of my bed has been bent upwards, making me lay in a sitting position.

I'm wearing a hospital shrug and my left shoulder is tied with bandages. At least I can still use both of my arms. Inspecting my body I find more bandages wrapped around my head. Was I in some kind of an accident? There is a band in my wrist and according to it my name is… John Doe? I'm an unrecognizable patient. Didn't I have any IDs on me when I was brought here?

CHANK!

The door opens and the nurses arrive. Maybe they can tell me what happened to me.

''Now he's awake,'' on of the nurses says turning the lights on and forcing me to cover my eyes.

''About time.''

''Ladies, you have to help me here,'' I tell the nurses as they begin to check my wounds. ''I just woke up with a bump in my skull and-''

Now it's getting darker as memories begin to return. Or rather flashes…

''…strange… I… there were gunshots, right? I can't remember anything clearly. How did I even get here?''

''It was providence that brought you here.''

That woman definitely isn't a nurse. Or if she is, she isn't wearing her uniform and for some reason I don't think that women who show their class by dressing up in black lined green blouse with a belt, matching suit shirt and a fedora. Can't a volunteer because 'charity' is far from the look on her face.

''What the hell does that mean?'' I ask as I turn on my bed and let my feet fall down hanging. ''How did I end up in a hospital?''

''Ms. Kane called in the 911 call that brought you in here when you were shot and hit by a car in the street,'' the actual nurse tells me as she pushes me back on the hospital bed. ''You were lucky that you only got a hairline fractures that have healed during the time you have been under a coma.''

''Coma?'' I ask unpleasantly surprised. ''How long?''

''For at least two to three months,'' Ms. Kane tells me with a cold voice showing a garment bag. ''More people than you were shot that night and you were not the only survivor.''

''I'm not planning on joining any survivors' clubs'' I tell her before noticing that she has more to say.

''My sister was murdered,'' Ms. Kane tells not blinking her eyes. ''Her name was Martha Wayne.''

Wayne? Why does that name sound so familiar?

''I want you to help me to expose her killer. It's simple,'' she continues leaving the garment bag hanging at the end of my hospital bed, ''the timings between your shooting and her murder is short enough to suggest that the killer was the same one in both cases.''

I don't how to respond to that or even have time to come up with anything such as denial as she leaves immediately.

''Get dressed and meet me outside.''

''She called my 911 call and paid for my hospital bills?'' I ask the nurse still in my room. ''And even got me tailored suit to wear? Why would she do that?''

''I don't know her motivations,'' the nurse tells me.

''She just likes to pick up injured men and do them enough favors to make them owe her?'' I ask taking the garment bag and open it's zipper to see what it has. Yes, I was right, it is a tailored suit. ''What happened to the clothes I had when I was brought in?''

''All I know is that they were badly burnt as if you had been in a fire and your wounds had bled too much on them,'' the nurse tells me, explaining the hospital's policy of throwing out the tattered rags I had apparently been wearing.

''And I also probably didn't have any money or on me since this says John Doe?'' I ask showing my hospital wrist band.

''No, but you had this on you,'' the nurse says opening the drawer next to my bed and taking a blank covered book from there. ''You might want to keep this as a memento since it took the bullet impact and saved your life.''

Well, I'll be damned. This book does have a bullet hole going through it. Suppose it was important to keep it close all the way to the hospital.

The nurse leaves me so I can get dressed on the suit Ms. Kane left for me, including shirt, socks, underwear shoes and a hat left in the cabinet near the door. Looking at myself on the mirror in the cabinet's door all dressed up gives me a lot of mixed feelings. First of all, I don't know what if I'm supposed to look like a gangster, civil suited cop or chump. Second, why did Ms. Kane get me these clothes and pay for my hospital bills? What is her endgame with all this?

But the most important question still is, who the hell am I?

I leave my room sitting it a wheel chair as the nurse pushing it and me browsing the book that saved my life. Another hospital policy, but it gives me a chance to get familiar with the only thing I have to go on figuring out who I am. It's easy to see that it's either a journal or an autobiography of a witch hunter named Mordecai from 1640s. However, there is this one thing that tells me this thing as to be a fake is the yellow, crumbled status of the pages suggesting the book to be centuries old, but the hand writing is modern, noticeable from how the words are used.

I need to find out where I got the book and who its modern day author is. That person might know. But that has to wait until later.

As I'm brought outside, I can notice Ms. Kane waiting for me with her car and an entourage of three men.

''Muscle to keep me from running away?'' I ask getting of the wheel chair and close the book.

''Hit the road, bookworm,'' one of the men, or thugs, tells me showing me a gun under his jacket.

Is this an assault on Ms. Kane in broad daylight? I don't know if it's a headache or an instinct that makes me first back out, then throw my hat of the grunt's face, grab the other two grunts and push them on the one with the gun. As they fall to the ground, Ms. Kane has already gotten to the driver's seat and is waving me to get into the car.

''I can see that you are going to be useful.''

**Author's notes: **If followers will come to ask me to write more, this is what happens next. Our protagonist and Ms. Kane, Martha Wayne's sister, will got to meet the parents of Martha Wayne and our protagonist is given his mystery to solve.


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's notes: **It took me some time, but thanks to some help I finally came up with a name for Ms. Kane. That's why this chapter took this long ot make. Again, if you recognize the original comic I'm basing this story on, PLEASE, keep it to yourselves.

* * *

**Wasps and Rumors **

''Who were they?'' I ask referring to the punks left behinds as Ms. Kane drives us away from them and Gotham General.

''Mashers, autograph hounds, people worse than paparazzi,'' she mutters. ''People you keep trying to avoid as a celebrity?''

I look at Ms. Kane for a few seconds trying to figure out where she could be famous from, but nothing comes to mind.

''No offense, but I don't recognize you from anywhere,'' I tell her with honesty and seriousness. ''I have no recollection of my life before waking up in that hospital, so I don't think I could be any help for you in whatever you say happened to your sister.''

''That is what makes you the perfect private investigator I could have looked for,'' she tells me to my surprise. ''If your head is as empty as you say it is, there is room inside it to gather information for the case you're hired for.''

That makes no sense, but I better not say it out loud. Few things I can understand from this woman is that she is used to getting what she wants and refusing to give it can have dire consequences so I better just play along. After rubbing my chin and scratching my head I start asking questions.

''You called my 911 call, which would have been enough for me to owe you my life, but you also paid my hospital bills and got me new clothes, assumingly to make me owe you enough to stay around.''

''You are a smart one,'' Ms. Kane says smiling. ''That's good.''

''So you want me to play private investigator to look into your sister's death that happened at the same time as my hit and run,'' I say remembering how long I was told to have been in a coma. ''Which was three months ago. Whatever crime scene there was has probably been cleaned off and evidence-''

''There is a detective in the GCPD who has been looking into Martha's case,'' Ms. Kane tells me as she turns the car to an exit taking out of the city and to a country side. ''The official investigation is closed, but he is still gathering evidence to finding out the truth.''

''Alright, that would help in getting fresh information,'' I say nodding. ''Where are we driving, by the way?''

''Thought you'd never ask, and since you didn't, my name is Marcia.''

* * *

A huge estate outside the city, that's where Marcia drove me. According to her this place is her family's home and her elderly parents, still grieving for the loss of their child, need to see that Marcia has done something to find out what happened and so give them the closure. And for some reason she didn't hire an actual private detective but picked up an injured man from the hospital.

Only thing I know about the death of Marcia's sister is what she told me on the car ride. That she was having a movie night out with her son and husband and was gunned down near where I was also shot and hit with a car. Only survivor of that night besides me was their son who was for some unknown reason left alive.

''Would you mind taking the bouquet from the trunk,'' Marcia asks me as she parks the car and we get out. ''Just dispose the accompanying card.''

Did she hire me as a valet too? I comply because not doing so would probably be bad only for me and open the trunk where I see the bouquet of flowers wrapped in blue wrapping paper and the card I'm supposed to dispose. As soon I have discreetly ripped it off, Marcia grabs the bouquet from my hands.

''Who's Johnny?'' I ask looking at the card before throwing it away.

''A rich movie director who wants me in his new movie,'' Marcia tells me walking to the door. ''He is married of course, but when has that ever stopped him, or me? Now just play along and you'll be fine.''

Blim-Blom!

Curious that she doesn't use her own keys to open the door, but uses the doorbell. Thought why would she if there is a house servant to let her in. She nods at the manservant and walks past him, and then the manservant turns to me.

''And you are?''

''Butler Inspector from the International Guild of Professional Butlers,'' I say just shooting random words out of my mouth with a stern pokerface and the manservant's skin goes pale. ''Your inspection is already getting minus points due to the lipstick I see on your collar, no doubly from the maid, who will no doubly be added to the report for violating . Also, your fly is open.''

''For God's sake, Groves,'' Marcia says half turning around. ''Pull yourself together, he's with me.''

I don't know if there really is a Guild of Professional Butlers, but even if there was, Groves looks young enough not to probably even know about it. If there would have been an older butler working here, that bluff wouldn't probably have even worked.

I make a half grin to celebrate my success as I walk past Groves and follow Marcia.

* * *

Marcia's parents are waiting for us on a large balcony on the other side of the house and seeing them makes me understand better why they truly need this closure and why I better not tell any of my truths. The father, Roddy Kane is confined to a an iron lung and seems so delirious he doesn't probably even know there are wasps circling his head, and the mother Betsy Kane is also confined to a wheel chair, giving me the very image of a frail old woman who is left with nothing, but material she would be without. This sight is what it takes to convince me these people need my help. Or even if I can't help, maybe I can give them some hope.

But then Marcia tells her mother I'm a detective and Betsy begins to do what I hope not every mother-in-law does when their daughter has been murdered, blame her deceased husband.

''Well, I never trusted him, but then there was that awful night and every time I think of his sneering face-''

It takes everything I have to look interested listening to what I doubt is wildly imaginative story about Thomas Wayne being a drug addict whose father and uncle had to cover up all his crimes. I could try to believe it, but the way Betsy is telling me all this it just makes me want to shake my head and demand solid evidence.

''Thomas Wayne was killed alongside with your daughter as I understood it,'' I tell Betsy as Groves pours her tea. ''Are you telling me he paid the killer to kill both himself and your daughter?''

''Am I supposed to believe my dear Martha died for those pearls? Is that still the story?'' Betsy asks rebuffing my argument. ''I know Thomas gave her that Van Derm heirloom as an Anniversary gift, but I know better. A thief would know the worthless value of Van Derm and a hired assassin wouldn't care. Those pearls were meant to mark m dear Martha as the target.''

Then why the hell was I shot too?! I better not say out loud, but that almost happens. This woman doesn't want to know what really happened, she just wants to believe what she is telling me.

''He killed my daughter, of that I have no doubt,'' Betsy says looking down on her tea cup, ''he stood there and admitted he'd turned my daughter into a drug addict… and worse…''

''Mrs. Kane,'' I start, trying my best not to sound disrespectful, ''are you telling me that Thomas Wayne told you this, after his alleged death? Then who did your grandson see being shot along with your daughter?''

I expect this to wake her back to reality, but she doesn't even flinch. I lean closer to her, close enough to see what she is looking at in her tea cup, the shapes the tea leafes have left in the empty cup. My memory is still gone, but the knowledge of divination from tea leafes is somehow something I know and I think Betsy is looking at what she thinks is an omen. An omen of a Bat.

''Whoever that man was, it wasn't Tom Wayne!'' Betsy tells me looking at the tea leafes. ''Thomas Wayne is alive! Laughing at us all!''

''Mrs. Kane, may I speak straight?'' I ask, but Betsy doesn't respond. I'll speak anyway. ''I was hired by your daughter to find out what happened to her sister. Your suspicions about your son-in-law will be taken into consideration, but until I find solid evidence I won't care about them. I can tell you this, I will find out what happened to your daughter.''

Marcia looks at me from her side of the table and looks like she doesn't know how to feel. This family is weird.

''He will find out what happened to Martha,'' Marcia tells Betsy and looks at me with another weird look.

''WUMMAAUUTHA!''

''Please, you must go now,'' Betsy tells me and - as Roddy howl in agony from his iron lung. ''Groves will give you a package on your way. Poor Roddy, these awful wasps.''

* * *

''That was a lot of nothing,'' I tell Marcia as we walk back to her car after Groves has given us the said package, which happens to be a birthday present to the boy who survived that night with me. ''So, your sister had a son with who your mother suspects to be the real murder?''

''Poor boy witnessed the whole thing, but I have a lead that there was another witness,'' Marcia tells me opening the car doors. ''I don't know who the witness is, but the detective I told you about should know. His name is James Gordon.''

* * *

**Author's notes:** It took so long for me to write this that I have already begun to write the next chapter. All I can tell about it now is that our protagonist is going to return to the crime scene and maybe visit the police station.


	4. Chapter 3

**Author's notes:** This way of writing is very different from what I have previously written in my previous stories. It is more complicated and writing this way takes time, mostly in the narrating and trying to keep up with what is actually going on in _Gotham_ with the pace it's going with the status quo of the characters changing so much in the last few episodes make integrating this story into the same continuity as the show difficult.

But now I managed to post this chapter here and I hope it manages get into the same feel with the Protagonist meeting one of the characters of _Gotham_ in it.

* * *

**Meeting at Crime Alley**

_This morning I didn't wake up in my own bed. Thought I have been on the road for some time, it wasn't the field bag I found myself in, but inside a hut of a woman. Woman, who had tied up and tensed wounds I had no recollection of getting, but strange flashes of fighting a demon from Hell. The woman, Annie she said her name to be, told me I had saved her from this demon and used herbs in her garden to heal me._

_I attempted to get up and grab her, but she pushed me gently back down. She didn't try anything hostile on me, she just told me to rest. ''Sleep now and I will love you to the end of time.''_

_I am a witch hunter and what this woman says has done to me, tells me she is a witch. Is it her dark magic that I don't wish to prosecute her for witchcraft or did this act of kindness open my eyes to the truth that Annie is not… Annie, God, I'm calling her Annie now. _

_She let me walk away once I had healed. She did not say goodbye, she just smiled at me with kind eyes with a ferret sitting on her shoulders. As I arrived to Gotham, I realized it was due to the short distance from her hut. She knew I would eventually return to her._

''What are you reading?'' Marcia says bringing me back to the reality that is her car.

''A book close to my heart, you could say,'' I respond showing her the book that saved my life and the hole in it. ''I'm still trying to figure out its plot holes.''

''Don't let it distract you from your work,'' Marcia says turning to look back on the road.

_Good for you, Mordecai_, I think looking at my book.

At least your arrival to this city was met with hospitality, I was just given a monkey suit and told to follow someone's orders. Or what do I know about your life, Mordecai? Maybe you just were told to return to Annie and were forced take her in as a witch. And maybe see that she was hanged or burned.

Love story between a witch and a witch hunter. Now I know this book has to be a fake. No one sane enough would have written this thing in the 1600s, even as a fiction. So why do I still carry this book with me? It saved my life, yes, but before my accident I was still holding onto it and refused to let it drop off my hands. Even when I was shot, why?

Marcia's parents gave nothing but misinformation to go on. At least, that's what I'm assuming. All they had were suspicions and rumors. I don't need to have my memory back to realize that rumors are powerful and dangerous. They can ruin people's lives, or as the rumored party is now dead, their reputations.

I stop walking as a weird idea enters my head. Betsy Kane was for an old woman very persistent in what she was telling me. She wanted to be right. Could it be that she wanted to destroy the reputation of the man she wanted to believe had her daughter killed?

What the hell have I been drafted into? I shake my head as it is too late to resign from this case and as an amnestic where the hell am I supposed to go and what people do I even have in my life? No one came to visit me in the hospital, what does that tell me about the kind of person I have been?

* * *

''I need to go get something near here,'' Marcia says stopping the car by the side of the road back in the city. ''It shouldn't take long so you can take some time to study the crime scene.''

I can't come up with a declining response so I get out of the car and look around.

''I'll be right back,'' Marcia says before driving off as I walk the street to the alley where it all happened.

''Park Row,'' I say as I look around walking, ''so this is where it all happened.''

This is the alley where I got shot before I tried to get a cross the street. And then a car hit me. It all happened right here and across the street, Marcia's sister was shot with her husband and only their son lived. What kind of a person does something like that? According to Betsy Kane, Martha was marked by her husband to be killed because she was wearing pearls.

''Van Derm heirlooms are worthless,'' I say out loud remembering what Betsy Kane told me, ''a thief would know, a hired assassin wouldn't care.''

Van Derm? Is that worth investigating? I really don't want to play a part in destroying someone's memory so if I work this line, could I be able to prove Betsy Kane's suspicions false?

Let's take a proper look at this crime scene. The Waynes were coming from over there, the Monarch Theater and they were skipping through this alley way to get to… where exactly? They were rich, so a bus stop wouldn't have been an option. Did they have a car waiting there? Then again, they were rich so didn't they have any kind of protection detail? The sure could have afforded one or several.

Am I starting to believe Betsy Kane's suspicions now?

''What the hell am I supposed to look for here?''

''What are you even trying to look for?''

I turn around faster then I realize, but manage to control it as if it was a reflex. It scares the little girl who spoke to me, something I'm sure doesn't happen to her very often.

''What are you doing up there?'' I ask looking up to her on the fire escape above me.

''I like being up here, or up in other places where I can look down to other people,'' the girl replies amused.

''Like a cat stalking mice,'' I respond noticing how cat-like she looks like with her appearance. ''Or a thief looking out for marks.''

''Nope, I just like being up here and watching people,'' the girl tells me, obviously trying to prove what I said wrong.

''Do you stay up there all the time or do you go other places to spy other people?'' I ask realizing this girl could be useful. ''Like, were you here or in some other place when the Waynes were shot?''

The girl's eyes wide out in obvious shock as I ask her that. She is scared to answer meaning she was here and I can tell she is already trying to look for a way to escape. I better play this right before she does that and I never learn what she knows.

''I was there on the other side of the road bleeding out, probably gunned down by the same shooter and even then got hit by a car,'' I say keeping my eye on the girl, making sure I see if she tries to escape. ''Just got out of the hospital today.''

She quickly looks to where I'm pointing at and then shakes her head.

''I must have missed you,'' she says and then realizes she did. ''I mean-''

''Did you see the shooter?''

''No!'' She says quickly.

''Yes you did,'' I say, and now she escapes, turning to run up the fire escape.

I don't even say anything, but boost a jump and grab the fire escape, pulling myself up to follow her. She is fast, but she is also sloppy. She has not have had anyone follow her up to the rooftops. She stops to look behind herself as she reaches the top of the fire escape and that is where I manage to grab her.

''Tell me- tell me what you saw- and I'll let you go,'' I tell the girl as she tries to fight me off. ''I'm not- I'm not lying to you. I just- I just want to find the people who put me in the hospital.''

''I wasn't there! I lied to police!''

''What?'' I ask surprised, but still keep my grip on her arm. ''Who said anything about police?''

''I lied to the police about being here to get-''

''You might have lied to police, but that was about not being here,'' I tell the girl pulling my book out of my suit's pocket. ''Look, I was shot and if it wasn't for this book, I wouldn't be alive. What happened to me happened at the same time as the Wayne shooting. And when I just mentioned it to you, you flinched, meaning you were here and saw something you weren't meant to. What was it?''

The girl doesn't speak at first, but at least she doesn't fight back anymore.

''Fine, I was there and I saw everything,'' she finally talks, ''but whoever shot you couldn't have been the same guy. He came from the opposite direction from where you should have been.''

''They were shot not long after me,'' I say, not knowing if it's the truth, but seeing it as a possibility. ''If it was the same guy, he had enough time to circle around to confront them. I remember hearing the shots when I was limping to get help. So how much did you see? His face, any distinctive markings or-''

''I gave the cops a description, but I don't know if they still have it after I said I didn't see anything,'' the girl tells me with attitude and tries to rip her arm free. ''That's all I told to the cops, now let me go as you promised!''

''All you told to the cops?'' I repeat after her. ''Did you leave something out?''

She gives me an angry look and for a moment I think I have seen it before. I let her go, but before she turns away I say: ''It is a simple 'yes or no'-question.''

She turns around to face me, but keeps walking backwards towards to edge of the building.

''I saw a grey haired man standing next to the boy where his parents were laying on the concrete. He said something before disappearing to thin air.''

Then she jumps off the edge and is gone by the time I get there. A grey haired man, wonder how many there are of those in this city. It must have been a spit at my face. She was there when it happened, I don't doubt it. But seeing a grey haired man was probably nothing real. Where could have that grey haired man come from and then just go away?

I turn back to the fire escape and make my way back to the street level. There is nothing new I can find here that I couldn't deduce or that girl wouldn't have told me. The shooter came from there, confronting the Waynes who were coming from the direction I was at, shot them, but left their son alive and ran away.

''Hah, and then there was a guest appearance by a grey haired man who no one but that catgirl saw,'' I say aloud before turning to walk out of the alley and back to the street to wait Marcia.

She is there waiting for me in her car right where she left me.

* * *

''Did you get your insight?'' Marcia asks me as I get into her car.

''Yes,'' I say locking the seatbelt, ''whatever little it is. Where are you taking me next?''

''Police station,'' Marcia says pushing gas. ''I used my connections to get you access to the morgue records and five minutes with the ME.''

* * *

**Author's notes:** Next, the Protagonist is headed to GCPD, where that current ME is, as _Gotham_ has currently shown, Leslie Thompkins. But it being GCPD, I'm already brainstorming on the Protagonist's interactions with Jim Gordon and Harvey Bullock.

But what do you think? Did Selina, yes that was her who the Protagonist met at Crime Alley, lie to him? There was no grey haired man in the _Gotham_'s pilot episode, but for this story to work, could there have been a grey haired man there?


	5. Chapter 4

Author's notes: I have said it before and I'm saying it again. The status of _Gotham_ characters keeps changing here and there so I don't know where this is set when _Gotham_ returns with new episodes in April.

* * *

**Three Riddles**

''And by what covered up lie did you manage to get me in there?''

I stand in front of the police station and it makes me feel uncomfortable. Marcia told me she had used her connections to get me in there to read the morgue records on the Wayne shooting and five minutes with the medical examiner.

''No lies, just walk in there and an officer will come for you,'' Marcia says lighting a cigarette. ''He knows what you look like and will get you everything you need.''

''Who is there waiting for me?'' I ask not sure if I should walk inside to probably be falsely arrested.

''Just walk into the lobby and start reading your book,'' Marcia tells me pointing at my book. ''He'll recognize you from it.''

I realize that I'm supposed to be in the employment of this woman, but being told to follow her orders without questioning them makes me feel like there is something rotten here. Just like Betsy's suspicions, I feel like Marcia just wants me to find what she wants me to find. /span/p

''Oh, and you should take this with you,'' Marcia says before I start walking and hands me a thin leather wallet and a burner cellphone. ''I had an identification made for your Investigator license and contact information you can call if you get caught.''

''I suppose I will be needing them,'' I say taking them and start walking.

* * *

"Well, here I am. Let's see what happened to Mordecai before Marcia's contact comes for me.

_I arrived to Gotham just in time to find my fellow Brothers executing a woman judged for practicing witchcraft. That is what I assumed as I arrived, as she was being drowned into the Bay, but as I heard my Brothers telling the masses her sins, I knew better and had to intervene._

''You're Malone, right?''  
"Whatever reason Mordecai had to stop this witch's drowning is going to have to wait. Marcia's contact has apparently come to collect me.

''Matt Malone, that's you, right?'' a blond civil suited detective asks me. ''She told me you'd be reading that. Who's the killer?''

''No one has died yet,'' I say closing my book and extend my hand. ''Yes, I was sent by Ms. Kane.''

''Arnold Flass,'' the detective replies shaking my hand and gestures me to follow him. ''You don't look like a Matt, by the way.''

Of course I don't. Marcia had to give them some name to get me in here. John Doe might have been too obvious, but it should have been better if first and last names begun with different letters.

''People names have nothing to do with their appearance,'' I say as I follow Flass. ''It's almost always the body language that tells you more about people.''

''Fine insights,'' Flass replies. ''So, why aren't carrying a badge? You'd probably do well with us.''  
''Too many rules,'' I answer and make Flass chuckle. ''But enough about me. Did Ms. Kane tell you tell you why she sent me?''

''You're to be shown into records room, but I don't think you can get much off the ME,'' Flass says and stops walking. ''Listen, we had a… situation here at the station few weeks ago.''

''What?'' I ask wondering if I should be worried.

''See that guy over there?'' Flass says pointing out detective's desks on higher level where I see two detectives, one clean looking in a suit and an older one with longer hair, beard and reading glasses.

''Beardo or clean guy?''

''Clean guy, he went through a lot of technicalities to get the previous ME fired and then get his girlfriend that job,'' Flass tells me with obvious dislike for the guy. ''I went in between to stop him and he framed me for murder on some guy who committed suicide.''

''Was he lucky or was it the right place and the right time?''

''Bit of both, I guess,'' Flass says. ''Not to mention he won't stop anything he starts until he is done with it.''

''Better not cross him then,'' I say. ''So, just the records room then?''

''Pretty much,'' Flass says signaling me to follow as we start walking again. ''I know the girl who works there and can keep her busy while you look for… you know, whatever you're supposed to look for.''

Now, what was I supposed to look for? If I can't ask the medical examiner about the Waynes' autopsies, what am I supposed to look for in the records room? The autopsy report? Even if I find that, could I be able to prove that it was Thomas Wayne who died and not some imposter as Betsy Kane suspects?

''Hey, Kristen, can I talk you for a minute?'' Flass asks for the record room keeper and distracts her while I sneak in.

The records room isn't that big, but I can imagine there are a lot of different case files here and as much I would be ready to look them all through, I don't have time for that nor do I want to tamper with whatever evidence there are stored in here from separate cases. Now, I simply need to look at the time stamps and work my way from there towards the date when the Waynes' shooting happened. I also need to look for James Gordon's name on it since he worked on that case. Now where is it?

''What are you doing here?''

I turn around and try my best to keep myself from looking like I was caught doing something wrong, which technically is what I'm doing. The person who caught me is a tall and thin man wearing a lab coat and glasses, and surprisingly he is looking at me like he would tell on me.

''I'm looking for a case file here that should have something to do with my own investigation.'' The truth will set me free, I hope. The lab-rat, or Nygma as I see on his nametag, acknowledges my sincerity and walks next to me looking at the files.

''What is something you can see and not see, know but not understand and look familiar but not safe?'' Nygma askes me as he looks at the file from where I was looking.

''Unknown,'' I answer almost immediately. ''You don't what you see watching it, you can acknowledge it but not know what it is and trying to understand it makes you approach with caution.''

Nygma grunts to my answer, making me guess I answered correctly. ''And it is completely unknown to you as well what you are looking for in here. Otherwise you would have asked for it and already left, but here you still are looking for it yourself.''

''Wayne file,'' I say boldly. ''When they were shot, there was another incident happening not far from that and the evidence I have collected so far supports that the two cases are connected.''

That last one was bluffing. Only evidence I have, if I can call it that, is Marcia's and Betsy's statements and I better hope my bluff goes through.

''What is something that coexists with something and only a few believe in?'' Nygma asks browsing the files.

''Coincidence,'' I answer, making Nygma grunt again and pull out a folder. ''They are rare, happen at random and are unbelievable to some people.''/span/p

''Very… good,'' Nygma tells me as he hands me the file. ''But before you go, what comes unexpectedly and leaves you in a bad situation?''

"I open the file and understand immediately what the answer is.

''Disappointment,'' I say seeing how little there is in the file.

The only suspect Gordon had on the Wayne shooting was a man named Mario Pepper and he was killed while resisting arrest. Also, since the cause of death was self-explanatory with gunshots to the chest, there was little to any autopsy performed on either Thomas or Martha Wayne. This didn't help in anyway.

''Damn,'' I curse putting the folder back on it's place and throw a goodbye at Nygma by a hand gesture.

* * *

I walk out of the records room to see Flass has taken the room's keeper elsewhere and begin to make my way out of the police station. As I walk I take up my book and read it as I leave, which should take off my looking guilty to any of the police officers.

_The good woman was not only to be drowned as a witch, but also to have killed her husband and for framing witches to the crime. That sentence alone made me realize the woman couldn't have been a witch, but a good Christian who had had enough of her Good Christian husband who had beated her. And that is why I had to intervene. _

_Brother Malleus, my superior was not pleased of my mercy to the good woman, but still agreed to have her judged only for the murder of her husband and not for witchcraft._

_''Save your fire for those who deserve it,'' I told Brother Malleus and continued my way._

''Looks like Annie left an impression on you Mordecai,'' I say opening the door outside. ''Just try not to temper your Brothers or-''

KNOCK!

Too much focused on my book, I fail to see someone coming from the opposite side of the door and bash onto her.

''Ow!''

''I'm sorry,'' I say immediately. ''I wasn't focused on where I was going and- are you alright?''

''Yes, it's alright,'' the black haired woman says understandingly. ''Good book I assume?''

''It is intriguing,'' I say, not lying because Mordecai's story is beginning to get interesting.

''Have we met before?'' the woman asks.

''I apologize, I don't recall meeting you before,'' I say, now nervous thinking how am I supposed to introduce myself.

''You were a patient at Gotham General,'' she says, reminding me of my waking up at the hospital. ''I didn't know you were discharged.''

''I just woke up today and they let me go,'' I say and a glimmer of hope enters my mind. ''Were you one of my doctors?''

''Leslie Thompkins, I volunteered at Gotham General before transferring to Arkham,'' she answers offering a handshake.

''Hey,'' a male voice says behind me and I turn around to see the detective who Flass warned me about.

In that instant, I realize that Leslie it the girlfriend that detective who got to become the Medical Examiner here thanks to this detective's caused caper. I was warned not to cross him and I have crossed him.

* * *

**Author's notes:** Okay, where is the protagonist now? In trouble or does he manage to talk himself free? Does he get to find out who he is with Leslie Thompkins' and Jim Gordon's help? Will he learn more about the Wayne shooting?

Also, I had Riddler, Leslie, Flass and some Gordon written here. Considering how they have been portrayed in _Gotham_, how close did I get in portraying them here?


	6. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes: **Both you and me still have to wait a week until the next episode of _Gotham_ arrives. Here's this to give you, my fellow, fans some content.

Writing this first scene took too long for me. And despite the title, Penguin will not be in this chapter. I tried to have him here and give him some lines, but that felt too much forced, so I just had Butch fill in as the Protagonist stepped into Oswald's.

* * *

**Oswald's**

Just walk away. Let him greet his girlfriend and while he does that, I'll just walk away. First take a step back while they are talking. Take another step away and be ready to turn around. Then make your way towards the door.

''Did you get to see Dr. Nichols' body yet?'' I hear the cop asking Leslie, confirming her to be the medical examiner.

''Not yet, Jim,'' Leslie replies as I begin to slowly walk backwards. ''I just got to station and ran into an old patient. Hey!''

Dammit! Turn around swiftly and don't look guilty. Leslie doesn't look as suspecting as Jim does looking at me.

''Yeah?'' I ask, in the same manner of 'did I forget something?' and hope that get through.

''Our conversation was cut short, did you get released from the hospital today?'' Leslie asks and I notice Jim taking interest.

''I woke up this morning and they let me go?'' I answer, telling the truth.

''Did they give you the suit too?'' Jim asks nodding towards, catching me off guard.

''Yep, lost and found,'' I say thinking quickly. ''I didn't have any clothes with me for some reason and the nurses were kind enough to search me this.''

''Can anyone from Gotham General confirm that if call and ask them?'' Jim asks crossing his arms. ''Mr…''

''I'm still suffering from amnesia and I can't unfortunately recall my name,'' I say and think very hard what to say next. ''I was just here to get… information about my accident and hopefully learn more on what I have forgotten.''

''Amnesia?'' Jim asks, looking like he thinks I'm a fool to think he would believe me. ''Memory loss?''

''Yes, I… remember very little if anything of my life before today,'' I say, or rather open up about my situation. I need to learn how to lie.

''Oh-kay,'' Jim says in a distrusting way. ''So how exactly did you end up in the hospital?''

''They told me he was hit by a car and shot,'' Leslie tell Jim, making me a little relieved.

''And you came here to look into your accident?'' Jim asks me again.

''Why do I feel like I'm being interrogated?'' I ask making an annoyed look. ''Yes, I came here to ask about my accident to help me retrace my steps and learn more about who I am.''

''When did your accident occur or don't you remember that either?'' Jim asks and gets elbowed to his side by Leslie, who tells the exact date I was admitted to Gotham General.

''The same day and time as the Waynes were shot?'' Jim asks, making me raise an eyebrow.

''Didn't realize it was that obvious,'' I say crossing my arms.

''It is if you're the cop who worked on it,'' Jim says surprising me. ''Did your doctor tell you that at the hospital?''

''Doctor Thompkins, would give us so privacy?'' I ask Leslie, who carefully walks away, while I'm doing a staring contest with Jim. ''Listen, Detective… Gordon, are you? You worked on the Wayne shooting and I was put into hospital because I was close to it.''

The staring contest continues as Jim nods, slowly, but he nods.

''You and I should talk more about it.''

* * *

Jim Gordon gave me the address to a club, whose owner he said to be in good relations with him. Oswald's, I could probably come up with a better name myself if I had memories where to improvise. Well, this place is shady or trying too hard to be taken seriously to by a certain clientele. The moment I walk in get greeted by the usher.

''I was to come here and wait for someone who was supposed to call ahead,'' I tell the usher before he begins to ask why I'm here. ''Jim Gordon was supposed to-''

''Ah, the Booker, of course'' the usher says and let's me walk ahead. ''We have a table waiting for you.''

Another nickname or alias. I might not remember who I am or my life, but I'm smart enough to be wary of this welcomed hospitality. I'm not here for a VIP treatment. I'm here to discuss with Gordon about the possible connection between my accident and the Wayne shooting.

Hmm, well now I'm here and actually have a table to sit in. Do I have any money to order anything? Some in this suit's pockets, enough to buy a small lunch. Or something close to that in this menu. And while I wait for that to be ready and Gordon to come here, next chapter- well, what do you know, Mordecai, you went back.

_Annie was waiting me outside her hut when I returned to her. She seemed to be familiar with what I had witnessed arriving to Gotham and what I had done, asking me if she had been named as a co-conspirator in bat-related killings. She was pleased to know not, but understood what I meant saying people being frightened by those crimes and other mysterious disappearances._

_''__When people are frightened, they turn to what they don't understand,'' I told her and she said she had to say the Lord's Prayer to prove preachers who had passed her that she wasn't a witch._

_But I don't think Brother Malleus would believe even God Himself if he was told Annie isn't a witch. _

_''__Let them think as they like'' Annie told me. ''If they fear me, they'll leave me alone. Nature has been a better friend to me than God or man.''_

_I can feel sympathy for the misgiving Annie has experienced in her life, like losing her parents crossing the Sea from Bristol. 'Good Baptists' looked down on her and she has been living in this hut._

_''__Thus I live, shunned, until you came,'' Annie told me as she took my hand. ''And most times I fail to understand all this has befallen on me.''_

_I…_

''You what, Mordecai?'' I ask looking at the three dots. ''What happened next? Was this chapter left unfinished?''

''You got three dots too?'' I hear and see Jim Gordon sit in my table. ''Yeah, those mean they made out after that. Didn't take you for a…''

''Neither did I you, because it's a witch hunter's journal from the 1600s and not a romance novel,'' I say closing my book. ''It took the bullet's impact and saved my life before that car hit me.''

''Oh-kay,'' Gordon says nodding slowly before getting down to business. ''You wanted to talk about the Wayne shooting and your accident.''

It doesn't take me long to tell Gordon about how I had met Marcia Kane when I woke up at the hospital and the reason why I was hired to look into the Wayne shooting.

''That's weird, Martha Wayne's family never stepped up during my investigation,'' Gordon tells me.

''That family was weird when I met them,'' I respond eating my lunch. ''The elder parents are halfway to their graves and their other daughter hasn't given me any good straight answers when I have questioned my employment.''

''That sounds like an undercover operative dodging the 'are you a cop' question,'' Gordon says. ''That aside, what have you actually been able to come up on the case?''

''I'll tell you once you tell me why you have been keeping the investigation ongoing past it's losing'' I say eating my mouth full.

''The suspect's shoes didn't match the witness' description,'' Gordon tells it to me straight, making me empty my mouth quickly to ask a follow up question.

''Which-_cough_-kid?'' I ask coughing. ''The boy or the girl?''

Gordon looks at me surprised.

''I met you witness at Park Row and managed to convince her to say she had lied to you.''

''You met Selina Kyle?'' Gordon asks.

''The little cat-girl, yep,'' I say after clearing my throat by drinking water. ''She lied to you about not being there, so you should catch her up again if you think she is important.''

''I'll add that to my to-do-list,'' Gordon says not looking at me.

''There was also something I haven't had a chance to look into yet,'' I say having finished my lunch. ''Betsy Kane, Martha Wayne's mother, mentioned that Thomas Wayne had given her pearls that were a worthless Van Derm-hairloom, something that a thief would know and a hired assassin wouldn't care.''

''What are you saying?'' Gordon asks.

''I'm saying that Betsy Kane might be an old crazy lady, but her rant about Thomas Wayne setting them to be robbed and killed has a chance of turning into a rumor and rumors have a bad habit to turn into-''

''Conspiracy theories,'' Gordon says finishing my sentence. ''Got it. The pearls' make and model was not take accounted at the time, but the Waynes' butler might know.''

* * *

**Author's notes:** Next stop, Wayne Manor.

And writing Gordon was a pain in my brain to get him as in-character as possible. Hrrr, and next I have _Gotham_'s version of Alfred right.


	7. Chapter 6

**Author's notes:** This isn't a long story it has taken most of Spring to write it. And really wish that the bosses at _Fox_ and _DC Comics_ would adapt this story as an episode like I did adapt this from a comic. A comic which's name I will reveal in the next chapter.

* * *

**The Portraits**

''Harvey, I need you to go through the evidence again on the Wayne case. Don't ask me why, just look for the info on Martha Wayne's pearls' make and model, then about Martha Wayne's family and her life before marrying Thomas Wayne and call me back!''

Gordon leaves a message to his partner's phone as we leave Oswald's and go for his car.

''So what's your plan?'' I ask Gordon as we get to his car.

''I made a promise to a young boy that I would find his parents' killer and what you just told me could possibly put him in a worse situation,'' Gordon says as he fastened his seatbelt and starts the car. ''Not to mention I didn't even know about Martha Wayne's side of the family, the investigation go a new unexpected element. And not knowing if it's a good or a bad thing makes me nervous.''

''You haven't even met that woman,'' I say as the car speeds away.

''I'm still trying to figure out why you'd be hired to investigate something this important,'' Gordon says as he drives through the Wayne Manor gates. ''If she wanted to find out the truth on her own terms, hiring a professional would be more reasonable than a-''

''Someone who doesn't even know his own social security number,'' I say looking at the large house not that much different than Betsy and Roddy Kane estate. ''Whatever it is, I'm involved in this and enough people know about it to keep me from walking away. And where the hell would I even go?''

''We'll cross that bridge when we get there,'' Gordon says as he parks the car. ''Look, I don't know how much you can help, but since you are involved, I'm taking anything you can give. Once this is done, we'll focus on you.''

''Naturally,'' I say as we step out of the vehicle and begun to pursue towards the house.

''Stay behind me for a while, when we get in,'' Gordon tells me as an advice. ''I know Bruce Wayne and his butler so let me explain you before you tell them what you know.''

''Got it,'' I say as Gordon rings the doorbell and after waiting awhile, a stern looking manservant, a big improvement from Groves, opens the door.

''Detective Gordon,'' the manservant says greeting Gordon and then turns to me. ''And who is this?''

''Alfred, this is Booker,'' Gordon answers,'' a PI hired by Marcia Kane, sister of Martha Wayne, to investigate her sister's murder.''

''Marcia Kane?'' Alfred repeats as if he has never heard the name before. ''I do recall Mrs. Wayne's maiden name being Kane, but she never brought up her family during my employment.''

''And that's why we're here,'' Gordon tells Alfred. ''Can we come in?''

* * *

I stay behind as Gordon tries to give Alfred the most believable version of my situation. This is a big house. Old one too, as I can see portraits of the previous generations of people who have lived here. That's Thomas Wayne there and after him Silas Wayne with a bad haircut, Patrick Wayne with sideburns, Kenneth Wayne in a tux, Alan Wayne in armchair, Solomon Wayne only one with a double chin, Joshua Wayne saint in white robes and bathing in light, Anthony and Darius Wayne dressed in revolutionary war uniforms and blank. Generational gap where there is no portrait. Probably a black sheep and next in line is… Mordecai Wayne?

''Mordecai Wayne went missing and was pronounced dead by his brother Malleus, who also executed the witch responsible of leading Mordecai to his death in 1643,'' I read from the plague below the portrait and shake my head. ''He was real? And a Wayne?''

Mordecai's portrait has him in puritan era clothing, hat, cloak and holding a journal. I get suspicious and lift my book up to match it to Mordecai's journal and they look exactly the same.

''This can't be the same book, it not that old,'' I say out loud and open the book where I last left it.

_Brother Mordecai is dead. He has not returned back for days after we found the remains of that body in the woods. Everyone else suspected witchcraft, but he insisted the murder was done by a ladle and even denied the Devil's involvement. He did not return to camp with us, so I followed him to that peasant's hut and searched it when they left together. _

_Evidence was clear, symbols that didn't match with our Christian God, but everything else. She was an infidel witch and when she returned back without Mordecai, I took her to be hanged at the City Squire. She hanged into her innocence, but that didn't matter with all the evidence. Her claims that Mordecai would be alive didn't matter as she said he would be at that cave where everyone knows it's not safe to go. One more witch is gone and the price was the life of one of God's servants. _

I can't read more. I knew this was coming, but to these really were real people and- Why do I even have this book?! Who gave it to me and where did I get it?

''Hey!'' I hear Gordon calling me and I turn to see him at the door to the study, ''you can come in now.''

I step in to see a young boy sitting on a sofa with Alfred standing behind him.

''Booker, this is Bruce Wayne,'' Gordon tells me, addressing me as my pseudonym. ''Bruce, this is Booker, a private investigator supposedly hired by your aunt to look in to your parent's death.''

''Your mother's death more,'' I say as I take of my hat.

''That is interesting,'' Bruce says in a manner I don't imagine many children to speak, ''considering this is the first I am hearing about her existence.''

''Is this the woman who hired you?'' Alfred asks me as he gives me a framed old photograph that still has a little dust on it.

It has two young women in it, Martha and Marcia Kane as I assume, and judging by it being recently dusted-

''I take it that Mrs Wayne wasn't in good terms with her sister,'' I say comparing how much younger this Marcia is to the one who I met at the hospital. ''Different hair color and attire aside, looks like the same woman.''

''You are right, mrs Wayne did not have a good relationship with her family and they were barely spoken of in this house,'' Alfred says as I give the picture back.

''Her parents didn't approve her marrying Thomas Wayne?'' I ask. ''That's the impression I got when I when taken to their estate.''

''From my knowledge, the Kanes were as old of a family as Waynes are and they probably saw Master Thomas having the same name as one of his ancestors as a bad omen,'' Alfred says, making me look back at the hallway of portraits. ''There was another Thomas Wayne in the 18th century who… involved himself in with satanistic blood-rituals and cult activity that in the end got him disowned from the Wayne family.''

''That… sounds extreme,'' I say surprised to learn this and to see how well Bruce is taking this knowledge. ''When I met with Betsy Kane, she didn't listen any reason I told her and did seem to be more interested in reading the leaves in her teacup.''

''She sounds superstitious and more focused in ruining the Waynes' name than learning what happened to her daughter,'' Gordon says crossing his arms. ''I'll call Harvey about what she found out and then go visit the Kanes myself. This sounds more like an attempted conspiracy.''

''You want me to come with you?'' I ask, but Gordon shakes his head.

''No, if I'm right and they are trying to build a conspiracy around Thomas Wayne's involvement in his death, you need to be somewhere they can't exploit what you have or haven't found out,'' Gordon says pulling up his phone.

''So he wasn't going to help you learn what happened to my parents?'' Bruce asks standing up.

''No,'' I tell him as I look down on him, ''I'm helping him not to make what has already happened to them turn even worse.''

* * *

After Gordon has left, I return to look at the portraits, especially Mordecai's portrait.

''The gap between Darius and Mordecai is where the other Thomas Wayne would have been,'' Alfred say joining me. ''It was decided by Alan Wayne and his wife Catharine Van Derm when they were saved from him.''

''Van Derm?'' I ask hearing that name.

''Yes, she was allegedly captured to be sacrificed in that Thomas Wayne's blood rituals,'' Alfred tells me, ''but was saved by a mysterious masked rider sent by her mother. The rider was carrying her mother's pearls to prove that.''

''Next you're going to tell me Alan Wayne was that masked rider?'' I say thinking I know where this is going.

''No, the rider's intervention in that Thomas Wayne's ritual was followed by a pursuit through the city that ended up at the Gotham Pioneer Bridge where Alan was attempting to take his own life,'' Alfred says correcting my assumption. ''The rider saved both of their lives and brought them together, but was unfortunately shot down from the bridge by a mercenary that Thomas had hired for that night. His body was never found, but Alan was inspired by the rider's actions.''

''That sounds like an unrealistic story,'' I say, before remembering the pearls. ''Wait, you said the pearls were of the Van Derm family? Were they the same pearls Mrs Wayne was wearing when she was shot?''

''They were an heirloom to the Wayne legacy as I understood,'' Alfred says.

''Excuse me,'' I say walking out to the backyard.

Okay, let's think this through. Gordon is going to see the Kanes, the pearls were a Van Derm heirloom and they have an unbelievable history behind. There was or wasn't a grey haired man at the alley after the Waynes were shot and Mordecai was real. He was real and he was a member of the Wayne family as well as a devil worshipping namesake of Thomas Wayne.

''That's all I have learned since I got out of hospital and none of it can tell me who the hell I am,'' I say out loud looking at the sun setting. ''It's been that kind of a day, only kind of day I can remember.''

''Good,'' I suddenly hear Marcia's voice say, ''at least you remember something.''

I turn to see her standing at the edge of the yard with men wearing robes with red hand mark on their shoulder and wearing masks.

''What is this?'' I say and then feel a presence behind myself.

More grunts and they are trying to grab me.

''A grifter, a man no one will miss.''

I fight them of as I can but they are too many…

* * *

''Booker?'' Gordon asked stepping to the backyard of the Wayne Manor after returning from the Kane's estate. ''Where did he go?''

''You think he ran on you?'' Harvey Bullock asked following his partner. ''Wouldn't be the first guy.''

''Where?! Where would an amnestic man go if he doesn't even know his own name?'' Gordon said looking around and stepped on something. ''Wait, this is his book. And his hat!''

''Signs of a struggle,'' Bullock said looking at it. ''The butler was with us at the door and the kid studying in his study. This happened recently.''

''Meaning whoever took him didn't go far,'' Gordon said as Alfred arrived. ''Alfred, have you worked here long enough to know any place he would have been taken?''

* * *

**Author's notes:** The next chapter, the maybe last chapter is named** The Truth.**


	8. Chapter 7

**Author's notes:** So, I changed the title of this chapter, big deal. Gotham's first season is over, THAT IS A BIG DEAL! Now we have to wait for an unknown amount of time until season 2 is released to Netflix.

But I promised to reveal who the protagonist is here. Well, I'm going to do it like this. It's not said straight in the story, just implied, but the comic I said this story was based on was actually 1/6 of that comicbook story. It was-

* * *

**Black Glove**

''This case was closed, Jim!'' Harvey Bullock told his partner running after him around the Wayne Manor. ''What the hell got you pulled back to pursue it!?''

''When we left it alone, it was left alone,'' James Gordon answered looking around the grounds around the estate. ''But if someone is planning to make it worse than where we left it, we owe it to Bruce Wayne to keep his parents reputation from being trashed post-mortem. Especially when we didn't actually catch the real killer.''

''But a family feud possibly connected devil worshiping cult!? That's usually where I step of the train.''

''That's the part that happened years ago,'' Gordon said pulling out his phone. ''We don't know if there it actually a cult working here. This is Gordon, I need perimeter put surrounding the Wayne Manor and the surrounding areas. We are pursuing conspirators who may also be connected to kidnapping of key witness and, dammit, and possibly have ties to cult activity!''

''JIM!''

''Copy that,'' Gordon said closing his phone. ''Hope I'm wrong.''

* * *

''200 years ago Barbados was beyond our abilities to explain or comprehend. A myth, a demon. Now we have dark science on our aid. A new understanding of tie and unearthly lifeforms.''

He heard voices and felt as he was being laid on his back and tied to a table. Candle light was the only light in the dark room. And he was wearing something new on his clothes. Some sort of ceremonial cloak tied to his neck and a cloth covering his eyes, but with eye holes. A mask.

''A sacrificial victim. Gotham Goat-Home. A scapegoat devil. The human bat.''

It didn't take long for him to focus his vision through the eye holes. It seemed… familiar. And what he saw was the woman he had met and who had given him a job to do, holding a dagger. Marcia Kane had also changed her appearance to shorter, blonder hair style and was wearing a fur-coat over her suit. If he hadn't recognized her face, He would have taken Marcia for someone else. And next to Marcia stood cloaked figures with blood hand print on their shoulders and one holding a video camera, narrating.

''Footage of Martha Wayne committing murder! Of a detective hired by her family.''

''Marcia,'' he gasped trying to sit up, but was kept by his binds, ''what are you doing? Who are these people?''

''A man's soul is in his reputation, his legacy,'' the cameraman narrated as Marcia lit a cigarette. ''Destroy a reputation, destroy a soul.''

''Documentary evidence against the Waynes and the butler. Fake photographs, letters,'' another cloaked figure said holding a folder. ''Souls to feed Barbatos.''

''No one is losing a soul but you, Marcia,'' he said to Marcia other cloaked figures begun to pour gasoline on him. ''You don't need to do this. Tell them to stop, TELL THEM TO STOP!''

''Save your breath, bat man,'' Marcia said mockingly looking at her lit cigarette. ''I would give up anything to never grow old.''

''That's what this is about!?'' he growled under his teeth while spitting away the gasoline. ''And these cultists to actually can deliver something that insane!?''

''They are not simple cultists,'' Marcia said pointing at the man holding the camera and he pulled of his cloaked hood to reveal his face. ''This is Doctor Simon Hurt, better known… as Thomas Wayne.''

* * *

Outside Wayne Manor, Bruce Wayne looked from his door step as uniformed police officers roamed his estate looking for the mysterious detective who had disappeared with signs of struggle left at the scene of his disappearance. In his hands, Bruce was holding the book that the detective had dropped behind. It had some of the strangest writings on it about witch hunts by a witch hunter by the name of Mordecai. Pirate encounter of the Black Beard himself written by a man named Jack Valor who was saved by an unknown man wearing his father's clothes and then told him to carry on.

''What's going on?'' a girl's voice said behind him and Bruce turned to see Selina Kyle.

''Detective Gordon found another lead on what happened to my parents and brought him here,'' Bruce told the girl dressed like a cat burglar. ''And then he was captured.''

''This place sucks as a safe house,'' Selina said before noticing the book. ''That looks familiar.''

''Have you seen this before?'' Bruce asked.

''Yeah, some grunt who ran me up had it on him and asked about-'' Selina said, but then cut her sentence short. ''Now that I think of it, he kind of looked like you. You know, if you were taller and had a deeper voice.''

''Detective Gordon brought a man here who he said was looking into what happened to my parents,'' Bruce said looking at the book and opened it on a page. ''But this is what makes me suspicious of who he said he was.''

''What is it?'' Selina asked looking at the page Bruce had opened on the book. ''Witch hunting love story?''

''It's not that, look at the handwriting,'' Bruce said while pulling out a note he had written, ''and compare it to this.''

Selina looked at the note, something about some area of research Bruce had done about his company, and after looking back and forth between the book and the note she saw what Bruce was talking about.

''It the same handwriting. Are you saying you wrote this?''

''No,'' Bruce said shaking his head, ''I'm saying that man had a book with my handwritten part in it.''

* * *

''Totality approaches!'' Doctor Simon Hurt spoke next to Marcia. ''In the name of the next Red Rock and the Rage, and the angels and the dukes of the dark side inferno pits. Barbados, give us a sign of your presence!''

''The other Thomas Wayne from the 1800s,'' he said speaking over whatever ritual was going on. ''You're the missing portrait, the devil worshiper. How-''

''Barbados gave him an eternal youth and with your sacrifice I shall have it too,'' Marcia said. ''And in time, after all of this is done, he will be a part of his family again after Bruce has been informed of the truth-''

''You mean LIES you have created!?'' he spat outraged of being used as an accessory. ''You are destroying two dead people's reputations, ruining third one's life even worse and PRACTICALLY COMMITING MURDER RIGHT HERE!''

_vworp…_

''A SATANISTIC RITUAL GIVES YOU NOTHING BUT HELL ON EARTH, MARCIA!'' he raged on as Marcia threw her lit cigarette on him and set him ablaze. ''AN APOKOLIPS! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT!?''

_vwrop… Vwrop..!_

''I ALREADY SAVED THAT BOY FROM A MADMAN LIKE YOU!'' He yelled enraged, leaning his burning body towards Marcia and Doctor Hurt. ''YOU REALLY THINK I'M JUST GOING LAY DOWN HERE AND DIE WHILE YOU RUIN HIS LIFE!? MY LIFE!''

_VWROP!_

His left hand broke free of it's binds and with the fire, adrenaline and rage he freed the rest of his limbs and stood up. Ignoring he was in flames and wearing what he was wearing he was intimidating sight.

''Barbados,'' Doctor Hurt said looking at the burning Batman as others shook up to this sight, ''is it you?''

''There is no Barbados,'' he said looking at his left hand that was vibrating and had a strange hole in it. ''I remember where this happened.''

**Flashback:**

_ ''I connect your mind with the TARDIS telepathic circuits-'' the Doctor said sticking the wire into Batman's left handpalm._

_''Argh!'' Batman grunted to the stinging pain._

_''-and now you open your mind for the TARDIS to locate that place you escaped from.''_

''I know who I am,'' he said reaching for the folder holding all the falsified evidence and grabbing it pressed it against his chest making it burn with him. ''Your lies will burn, but the truth will prevail.''

* * *

''There's light coming from over there!'' Gordon said leading a group of uniformed cops through the woods near Wayne Manor.

It was a secluded crypt. Hidden from anyone's view. As Gordon approached it with his men, the crypt opened and men in robes ran out as if they were the Devil himself was behind them.

''Grab and cuff them!'' Gordon yelled orders to the officers as a burning Batman emerged from the crypt pulling another robed man and a Martha Wayne look-a-like.

''_This is that other Thomas Wayne's crypt and this is Marcia Kane_,'' the Batman spoke throwing Gordon a camera and a burner phone, making him lower his gun to catch them. ''_And that's your evidence. Keep up the good work, Commissioner_.''

''I'm not a-'' Gordon was about to respond after getting his posture back, but when he did, the Batman was gone.

* * *

_Next day at the police station_

''Marcia Kane is arrested and the cult she was working with is called the Black Glove,'' Gordon told the visiting Bruce Wayne and Alfred at his desk. ''Their leader, Simon Hurt, was working psychiatrist at Willowood Military Psychiatrist Hospital. According to the evidence Booker left us, they were Satanists worshiping Barbatos, an ancient bat god and were going sacrifice him as a blood sacrifice and frame your parents for crimes they didn't actually commit.''

''Sickos,'' Bullock muttered.

''But Booker stopped it,'' Gordon continued. ''He got us evidence to expose their attempted conspiracy by recording the events of his kidnapping to an audio file on his burner phone that matched with video footage they were recording to create more falsified evidence.''

''And, what happened with Mr Booker?'' Alfred asked. ''And where is he?''

''Gave us the evidence and bailed,'' Bullock said shaking his head. ''Not to mention he was on fire and pretty calm about it.''

''No idea why he did it, but we're searching for him,'' Gordon said pausing as he said it. ''Or his body, considering.''

''So, am I to assume that my parents' reputation is safe?'' Bruce asked, holding the book hidden under his jacket.

''The conspiracy the Black Glove attempted to build is revoked. Everyone knows that all the evidence against Thomas and Martha Wayne is fabricated,'' Gordon said reassuringly. ''Bruce, I know this didn't bring us any closer to finding your parents' killer, but their value of memory has been saved. We should be thankful for that.''

Bruce nodded and turned to leave with Alfred. Bullock also left to go somewhere else too and Gordon was left alone. Another case behind him and it was to time to move on again. But it was Booker's fate that kept bothering him.

And the fact that he had called Gordon… Commissioner.

* * *

**Author's notes:** _Return of Bruce Wayne_ issue number 5, The Mascarade. That's the comic I was basing this story. Stretched from a quick 20 paged story to an episode length story. The protagonist who Gordon named Booker was Bruce Wayne. But considering the existence of the DC Multiverse, which Bruce Wayne? There was a hint this story to answer that.


End file.
